In the Blood
by Wilusa
Summary: Another 1991 DS story, in which Barnabas claims he's been wrongly accused of a series of crimes.


  
DISCLAIMER: _Dark Shadows_ and its canon characters are the property of Dan Curtis Productions; I don't know who owns another concept I mention here. No copyright infringement is intended in either case.  
  
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"Julia. Could you get me a...a _tape_, of a...TV miniseries? A specific one?"  
  
Julia Hoffman was so startled she almost burst out laughing. Then she saw Barnabas's face.  
  
"I'll try, Barnabas," she said carefully. "Not everything is available on tape. In fact, TV miniseries usually aren't.  
  
"I can't imagine you watching TV. Have you ever looked at it?"  
  
"Yes, of course. When I first woke in this time, I needed to learn how a twentieth-century gentleman should dress and behave. I may only have approximated it--but I had devoted almost a week to studying what was on TV, in Willie's apartment over the stable."  
  
"I never realized," Julia admitted. "I should have guessed that. What miniseries do you want to see?" The idea still struck her as incongruous.  
  
"It concluded last night. Willie happened to see part of it. He has a small battery-run TV in his room--I didn't know he had it until he told me about this. The title was _Blood Ties_."  
  
"_Blood Ties?_ A pilot for a vampire series?" She was tempted to laugh again, then turned serious. "I didn't look at it, but I know most of my acquaintances did. Because of the things that have happened here--Daphne, Professor Woodard. Sheriff Patterson couldn't hush it up. So the people of Collinsport have a morbid interest in vampires. But why do _you_ want to--"  
  
"Can you get me a tape of it?"  
  
"Yes, in this case I'm sure I can. A lot of people taped it--I can borrow a tape from someone. And I have a VCR in my room at Collinwood. But the VCR requires electricity. Can you come to Collinwood to look at it?"  
  
"I'd be more comfortable somewhere else. The power is still on in Willie's old apartment."  
  
"All right, I'll bring the VCR over there. But why?"  
  
"Please, Julia, let me look at the tape. If it answers my questions...then I'll explain."  
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The following night, a puzzled Julia watched as Barnabas paced the length of the tiny apartment. The miniseries had clearly excited him.  
  
"That's it!" he exclaimed. " 'Carpathians.' People who are, in a sense, vampires--but not traditional ones, not like me. A race of vampires who can lead normal lives by day, sleep and make love in their beds at night. And yet they _are_ different. They have long life spans, superior strength, they're resistant to injury and quick to heal.  
  
"And they attack other humans for blood. At least some of them do. Not an irresistible compulsion, an inherited taste for it! My God, that's even worse."  
  
"Barnabas!" She had to bring him back to reality. "It was only a movie. Fiction, Barnabas--can't you understand that? 'Carpathians' don't really exist."  
  
He calmed himself with an effort. "I'm not losing my mind, Julia. I know the plot of the movie was fiction.  
  
"But here's a comparison. There have also been movies about traditional vampires, am I right? Vampires who live by night, have no reflections, and so forth? The plots of those movies were undoubtedly fiction. But you and I know the phenomenon they describe is all too real."  
  
She stared at him. "Are you saying you have reason to believe the Carpathians are real?"  
  
"Yes. Perhaps the writer of the miniseries was one of them, and thought it would be safe to write from personal experience because no one would believe it. Oh, they may not really call themselves Carpathians. But I'm sure people like that exist."  
  
"You promised," she reminded him, "that if this tape gave you the answers you were looking for, you'd explain."  
  
"I will."  
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"I never dared tell you this before," he began quietly. "Without some hypothesis to account for what had happened, you never would have believed me. You would have thought I was insane. It was better you believe you were dealing with a sane man, with a few more sins on his conscience than I really had.  
  
"Julia, the only people I have killed in this century were that young couple outside the roadhouse! I did not kill the girl whose body washed up on the beach. And I did not kill Daphne or Professor Woodard, or transform them into vampires."  
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The shock hit her with the force of a physical blow. When she found her voice she said, "You're right. I never would have believed you--I find it hard now. I don't understand, Barnabas. Are you trying to tell me these _Carpathians_ did it?"  
  
"Hear me out, Julia. I never wanted to be what I am. And now that I have adjusted to the situation and have some degree of control, I try not to kill. I can survive without killing, because I have the power to cloud victims' minds and make them forget.  
  
"Also, I never intended to harm any of the Collins family in this century. That first night, when I desperately needed another victim--to avoid taking too much blood from Willie--I tore myself away from the estate and went all the way into Collinsport. Daphne was the last patron leaving a pub at closing time. I know now she had been helping the owner with his tax records. The point is, I had no idea she was a Collins."  
  
"I realize that."  
  
"You may not realize...I'm not proud of it, but this has been my attitude. When I need a victim I tend to look for a prostitute, or a woman I think is one, near a pub. In my time, if a woman like that were injured or even killed, few people would have cared. There would have been no investigation."  
  
"I see," Julia said stiffly. She couldn't keep the disapproval out of her voice.  
  
"Do you? As I said, I'm not proud of myself. But...the girl on the beach turned out to be a college student. Not my pattern. And I could not have met her anywhere near here. Why in God's name would I have brought her home, and called attention to myself by throwing her body off Widows' Hill?"  
  
Her eyes widened. "You're saying..."  
  
"Another vampire knew of my existence, and wanted me destroyed! I realized that at the time. The girl was definitely killed by a vampire. And the killer disposed of the body near here to create circumstantial evidence against me."  
  
"But there had been no previous attacks in the area," she objected. "Other than the ones you admit."  
  
"I know. And at the time, I couldn't understand it. Even if he--I'll say 'he'--had good control, I would have expected a record of _something_ that I, at least, would recognize as a vampire attack. And why would he care about exposing me?  
  
"But Julia, if he was a _Carparthian_... Think about it. A man who led an outwardly normal life. Perhaps he didn't practice vampirism for years at a time. Or perhaps he did it often--for pleasure, on his vacations! If he felt any need at all, it was controllable. So if he lived near here, he never attacked anyone in this area. He could take his time--drive all the way to Boston, if he chose, before indulging himself.  
  
"But like the Carpathians in the miniseries, he believed his type of vampire was the only kind that existed. And even though he kept his true nature secret, it was bound up with his ethnic heritage, and he took great pride in it.  
  
"Then he learned about me. He probably guessed the truth because I had appeared in town just as the attacks began, and for a long time I was never seen by day. Also, he probably learned I was a lookalike for a supposed eighteenth-century ancestor, and became convinced I was really the same man. Meaning I was older than he--the Carpathian life span is only about a century and a quarter.  
  
"He could easily have perceived himself as superior, because he was able to function during the day. But I don't think he saw it that way. I made him feel less than a real vampire. I was a threat to his identity, his sense of who and what he was. He tried to deny my existence--and when he could not, he tried to _end_ it."  
  
"You...make this sound plausible," Julia murmured. "But you have very little evidence. What about Daphne? Are you denying you attacked her a second time?"  
  
"No. I did draw her out of the house that night. I did attack her. But with no intention of killing her, let alone making her a vampire! All I intended was to reinforce my hold over her, so you would be unable to break it with hypnosis. I succeeded--and sent her back to the house. I did not injure her seriously. I swear it, Julia! Another vampire attacked her after I left!"  
  
Julia frowned. "Let me play devil's advocate, Barnabas. Isn't it possible you lost control, blacked out--did things you don't remember, on both those nights?"  
  
"No. Vampirism isn't like that. I can lose control, but I'm never left with gaps in my memory.  
  
"And..." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "I could not have created another vampire accidentally. I never have created a secondary vampire, Julia. But I know, by instinct, how it's done."   
  
"H-how?" She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.  
  
Eyes locked on hers, Barnabas said steadily, "It requires transferring copious amounts of a dying victim's regurgitated blood from the vampire's mouth to the victim's, forcing the victim to swallow it. I repeat, I have never done such a thing. And never will."  
  
Julia gulped. But then she shook her head. "Daphne returned as the kind of vampire _you_ are. How could this 'Carpathian' make her that?"  
  
"He didn't." Barnabas took a deep breath. "Julia, I know you'll find this harder to believe than anything else I've said. But please, think about it. Don't just reject it out of hand.  
  
"_I believe Daphne did not really die that night_. She was in a deathlike stupor, and was wrongly declared dead. And then...she 'returned as a vampire' because _she herself was a Carpathian._"  
  
"Barnabas! Daphne was a _Collins!_"  
  
"Let me rephrase that. She had some Carpathian blood. Enough. All sorts of people--seamen and fisher folk, mostly--have been streaming through Collinsport since the seventeenth century. Every family in town is a crazy-quilt ethnic mixture.  
  
"Think about it! I was desperate for blood the night I first attacked Daphne. When I left, I was cursing myself for having killed her. I've heard since then that the doctors didn't expect her to survive. But she did. I did far less physical damage to the young couple from the roadhouse, and they died. So we know Daphne had a remarkably strong constitution.  
  
"Also...remember from that movie, how highly-sexed the Carpathian women seemed to be? It's hard for me to talk about this--but I swear, something like that was latent in Daphne. The second time I attacked her...  
  
"Julia, you may be aware that a vampire's victims often..._enjoy_ it. Sexually."  
  
"Yes," she said, aware her cheeks were burning. "I've heard that."  
  
"Well, even so, there was something different about Daphne. She responded _too_ enthusiastically, seemed to like it _too much_. Tried to bite _me_, with every intention of drinking my blood. It was as though I had...awakened something in her, something she had never been aware of! And it frightened me. I broke off sooner than I had intended.  
  
"As I said, I believe now that even after the other vampire attacked her, she did not really die. But when she woke in that coffin--in the family tomb, not buried--and forced her way out, she _believed_ she had died and returned as...what I am. She had no understanding of her true nature. Crosses, daylight itself could not have harmed her--but she recoiled in terror because she _believed_ they could. I'm guessing she simply hid from the light of day, without actually retreating into her coffin and closing the lid.  
  
"Of course, a stake through the heart could kill even a Carpathian. But a number of less drastic methods probably would have sufficed."  
  
Julia was still shaking her head. "You're overlooking something, Barnabas. A Carpathian--if they exist--surely would have been killed by either the autopsy or the embalming process."  
  
He grimaced. "Actually, I suspect either of those procedures would destroy _any_ potential vampire. I had been in this time for months before I learned about autopsies and embalming. When I did, I wondered how Daphne could have survived. So I did some investigating.  
  
"Willie had a few answers, and he checked other points with his 'Auntie.' Julia, none of the old families of Collinsport embalm their dead!"  
  
"What? _Why?_"  
  
"A religious prohibition, for which no one can suggest any rationale beyond tradition. Remember my saying all sorts of ethnic groups passed through this area and contributed to its mix? They brought every conceivable religious idea with them. The result is a vague Protestantism that no one takes very seriously--but with any number of exotic customs thrown in."  
  
Julia needed a minute to absorb that. Then she said, "All right. But even if corpses are not normally embalmed, there should have been an autopsy on a murder victim."  
  
"Yes, there should. But the coroner agreed to forgo it, to spare Elizabeth's feelings. We're dealing with a small town, a prominent family. And no one doubted what an autopsy would show: homicide, with death attributable to shock and loss of blood. Daphne was supposedly the fourth victim of a serial killer."  
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It was Julia's turn to rise and pace. "Barnabas, aside from the question of whether Daphne was a Carpathian...you say you didn't make her a vampire. And there was something about her that night that frightened you..."  
  
"That's right."  
  
She stopped in her tracks and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "Didn't you have an opportunity, later, to _ask_ her about the other vampire?"  
  
He shifted uneasily. "No."  
  
"I can't believe you never saw her--as a vampire, or whatever she was. Don't tell me you were afraid to approach her--"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then...you did ask her, and she wouldn't tell you anything." Her eyes bored into him. "Does all this explain why you never helped her? I've always wondered why you didn't guide her, teach her to be more cautious. Force her, if necessary, until she adjusted."  
  
Barnabas looked away. For the first time, uncertainty crept into his voice. "I think I would have helped her, in spite of everything, if I could..."  
  
"If you could? You mean she wouldn't listen to you?"  
  
"No. I...I... Hang it, I may as well tell the truth." He turned back to her. "A few months ago I never would have risked...giving you an idea...by telling you this. But now I think I can trust you. God help me if I can't.  
  
"Julia, if I really had killed Daphne, I would have been more on my guard than usual. But I had _not_.  
  
"The next day, Willie learned she had been killed. He was terrified--concluded I was a menace he had to deal with, somehow. So he...chained me in the coffin again."  
  
_"Willie? Chained you in the coffin?"_  
  
"Yes. In the Old House basement. Even now, I find it hard to believe.  
  
"When I woke at nightfall I was frantic. I had no idea what had happened, or even where I was. Mind you, I was still unaware of Daphne's 'death.' But I did know there was another vampire out there, a vampire who was my enemy!  
  
"I tried desperately to reach out with my mind, reestablish the control I had once had over Willie...even though I was not at all sure it was he who had imprisoned me. I tried to order him to release me."  
  
He shuddered. "To this day, I don't know whether those mental commands had any effect. But several nights later Willie _did_ release me--as it turned out, only a few hours before Daphne was destroyed.  
  
"He told me that if he could have returned the coffin to the secret room in the mausoleum, he would have left me as he found me and fled Collinsport. But there was no one he could trust. And he couldn't move the coffin alone--especially with me in it!  
  
"He was tempted to leave me there and run. But he knew the coffin would eventually be found, and he didn't want me to be destroyed. He couldn't invent any more explanations for my absence, so he...set me free."  
  
Trembling, Barnabas buried his face in his hands. Julia realized she was shaking too.  
  
"I never would have expected Willie to have the courage to chain that coffin," she whispered. "Or, having done it and changed his mind, to dare to release you again, knowing what you might do to him. I hope you didn't punish him..."  
  
"I did not."  
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Julia stared bleakly out the window. Into darkness, and nothingness.  
  
Barnabas was saying, "Willie still believes I killed Daphne, inadvertently. And that it was possible for one of my victims to become a vampire without my intending it. He was frightened enough without hearing there was someone else out there."  
  
She turned to face him. "Tell me about Michael Woodard."  
  
"I think you already know."  
  
"Tell me anyway."  
  
He sighed deeply. "I never attacked him, Julia. I merely tried to intimidate him, and thought I succeeded.  
  
"I believe now that when he revealed himself as a vampire, he was letting you see what he had, in fact, been all his life. Did you see marks on his neck?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"I'm sure there were none. If Sheriff Patterson read the autopsy report closely enough to notice that, he assumed the wounds that had caused Woodard's first death disappeared when he came back to life as a vampire. But in reality, the scars would not have faded that quickly.  
  
"I think Woodard planned to feign being afraid of me, then let the Sheriff talk him into handing over the film he had that incriminated me--which I, unknown to him, had erased. But he had second thoughts. Perhaps he had a nagging feeling I would not have let him keep the film if I had not, somehow, erased it.  
  
"And he knew you were helping me. So he impulsively decided to kill you and the Sheriff, and use your bodies as he had the others--plant them on or near the Collins estate, to cast suspicion on me. He attacked the Sheriff first because he considered him the more dangerous opponent, but I'm afraid you were his main target. I'm sorry, Julia. I know you thought of him as a friend."  
  
Tears stung her eyes. "Sheriff Patterson shot him, and he didn't fall..."  
  
"He was a Carpathian. Highly resistant to injury, remember? He _was_ injured--but he could endure far more than an ordinary man, without showing it.  
  
"I wish he had challenged me openly. It would have been a fascinating confrontation, both of us possessing enormous physical strength. But he had no supernatural powers, none at all. I think he would only have taken me on as a last resort."  
  
"You're _sure_ he was the original enemy vampire?"  
  
"The attacks--that is, attacks by someone other than me--stopped with his death, Julia."  
  
She nodded reluctantly. "He...killed Daphne," she whispered. "Drove a stake through her heart, knowing she was one of his own kind."  
  
"Yes," Barnabas said somberly, "he must have been aware of it--though not, of course, when he attacked her and left her for dead. When she reappeared, he would have known he had no power to create a vampire. He undoubtedly realized the truth.  
  
"From his point of view, he had no choice but to hunt her down and kill her. It was far too late to establish that she had been wrongly declared dead, and let her practice Carpathian vampirism in secret as he did. And she could have identified _him_."  
  
"You're right," Julia said wearily. "That explains it."  
  
Barnabas looked troubled. "Actually...I believe all I've said, but I'm surprised you aren't pouncing on the weakness in my theory. Even allowing for the ethnic mix of Collinsport, it's a remarkable coincidence that Professor Woodard and Daphne were both Carpathians."  
  
Julia didn't feel up to pouncing on anything. Wiping tears from her eyes, she asked quietly, "How much do you know about Daphne?"  
  
"Not much. Only that she was Elizabeth and Roger's niece, and her parents died in a plane crash when she was an infant."  
  
Julia shook her head. "That's the official story. Elizabeth told me the truth.  
  
"The couple who died in that plane crash left no children. Daphne was Elizabeth's illegitimate daughter. And her father was...Michael Woodard."  
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(The End)   



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